Reshki's notes: Ack. Last chapter was rushed, awful, and was only posted because I had total writer's block and it was the best I could do under the circumstances. Sorry. This one's a little better, I thinketh, apart from seeing Kai at his most OOC yet. (groans) This romance business is so HEAVY…I need to get back to doing more humorous stuff. Another chapter of Don't even ask is in the works…it now features Tala as the Big Bad Wolf! Guess who gets to be Little Red Riding Hood – go on, just guess.

Disclaimer: I have two words for you: the first one is not, and the second one is mine.

Warnings: An abundance of OOCness, a VERY flimsy plot device, and shonen-ai.

Chapter Ten:

Homework

It was a cool, quiet afternoon, heavily overcast with white-grey clouds. I was sitting on the porch outside the dojo, alone, fiddling with Dranzer again. I knew I was going to have to do some serious training to make up for the past week. I was disgusted at myself. I'd spent the time moping around like some pathetic, nauseating little schoolgirl whose crush had just turned her down.

After a while, the trip back to Japan blurred into a lifeless, ashen smear of tiredness, and by the time I had arrived at the dojo, I'd been practically clinging to Tyson just keep from collapsing. I was such an idiot…I couldn't afford the luxury of being upset over something as pointless as a crush. I was a Beyblader, first and foremost – and now a week of near-sleeplessness, little food and no training could have severely damaged my chances of doing well in the Tournament.

Well, then, I told myself calmly, you're just going to have to work extra hard, aren't you?

Getting up, I surveyed the ground. It was still slightly soft from the morning's rain, which meant that it would offer a high resistance, and would hopefully be enough of a challenge get back me back into practice. Slowly, carefully, I clicked Dranzer into place in the launcher, and inserted the ripcord. I decided to start out with a few basic launches and speed runs, and began counting down slowly under my breath out of sheer habit before yanking the ripcord out, sending Dranzer spinning out across the soft ground.

It felt good to be Beyblading again. Life has always been much simpler when I could focus on one thing and one thing alone. You blade to get stronger, to deepen your understanding of dedication, to test yourself and your endurance.

That's all that matters.

I watched Dranzer begin to speed up, zigzagging across the ground, churned-up clods of mud spraying up in its wake, feeling the familiar white-hot power surge through me. Good. I hadn't fallen behind that badly, after all. Dranzer picked up speed, racing around the roots of trees, leaping over small stones. I leaned back against the pillar, wrapping my arms around myself, watching my blade dart through the mud, the pale sunlight that stabbed through the clouds lancing off the metal, glinting coldly through the darkening air.

Clash!

There was Dragoon, spinning, dancing around Dranzer teasingly, the two blades nudging together, racing each other, careering across the ground. A sword of surprise shore through me; my chest tightening with painful pleasure, I swallowed, suddenly finding my throat dry and scratchy. I didn't dare to look up at him. I was terrifyingly aware of the warmth of his body next to mine, of the slight sound of his breathing, lightened by laughter.

Tyson.

He'd been standing next to me for a total of three seconds, and my heart was already beginning to flutter out of control. I acknowledged silently that I was hopeless, feeling blood rush to my face, tingles of apprehension spreading to every corner of my body.

For me, he'd always been the one stable, infallible thing, the constant that kept me in check, the one I had to beat, the one I had to know was safe, the one who kept me strong. No matter what I tried to do, I couldn't deny of those feelings. I couldn't deny how powerful, how alive I felt when I was around him, and I couldn't deny that I enjoyed it.

All I could do was keep it hidden.

"Yeah, how'd d'you like that, dude?" he cheered, as Dragoon came circling back and leapt up into his open hand. He repositioned it in his launcher, and asked, brightly, "So? Feel like a Beybattle?"

"No thanks," I said, a little stiffly, cautiously taking the time to focus on slowing my breathing. If I hadn't known better, I would have said I was blushing. I don't blush. Sentimental idiots blush. How pathetic was I if I started acting like some lovesick loser every time he even spoke to me? My stomach was already twisted into nervous knots just from being around him, and I knew that if I even looked him in the eyes for the smallest instant I would lose control again.

I don't like losing control.

"Ah, come on, dude! Why not?" he asked, clumsily sitting down cross-legged on the porch next to the pillar. "Hey, you're chicken, aren't you? Well, you should be. It's only fair to warn you that I bladed with Tala a lot while I was taking time out from trying to save your neck, and let me tell you, I so trounced him."

Dranzer whirred to my feet, and I leant down and picked it up, wiping the mud from its attack ring with slow, meticulous care, very conscious that Tyson was still watching me, waiting for an answer. I noticed that my fingers were shaking, and felt like kicking something. This was nonsense. What is wrong with me? Some kid smiles at me and defeats me a couple of times in a Beybattle, and the next thing you know, I can't even think about him without making a complete fool of myself. Still staring intently at Dranzer, I said, as firmly as I could, "I don't feel like it, Tyson."

"Pretty please?"

"No." Having made sure that Dranzer was still in good condition, I slipped it back into my pocket. I would just have to find somewhere else to train – somewhere away from Tyson.

I began to walk away slowly, deliberately, my shoes sinking into the soft ground. I wanted to stay with him more than I could believe; leaving him behind without even looking at him was almost more than I could take. I had to do it, though; there wasn't any question about it. He didn't love me, and I refused to force him into faking any more sympathy for me. Depending on other people is stupid. All you have to do is make sure that you can depend on yourself, and then you're set for life. Simple.

That didn't mean that walking away from him didn't hurt, though.

"Dude! Get back here!" he called after me.

I said nothing.

"Hey! You! Kai! I am warning you, man!"

"Get lost, Tyson!" I spat back, viciously, still not turning around.

I heard an exclamation of anger and a series of dulled footfalls, and then felt his hand close around my elbow, sending tingly, shivery ripples running across my skin. "Geez! Do you ever take a break from being such a grump?" he complained.

"I think you can answer that question for yourself," I snapped, keeping my eyes firmly downcast. "Back off."

"Kai, if you think that I am ever going to let you out of my sight again, then there is just something way wrong with you," he informed me. "Uh-uh. Not happening. I am sticking with you, dude, and that is final."

Typical Tyson - tactless, devastatingly straightforward, heart-wrenchingly sincere. Trying and failing to ignore what his touch was doing to me, I found myself smiling at the ground in spite of the miserable ache building in my chest, and drew in a quick, deep breath of suppressed longing. "Whatever," I said. "Just don't expect any deep and meaningful conversations about how wonderful life is, because I'm afraid I'm fresh out."

"Hah! Alright!" he crowed. "Hey, what do you say we head down to the river? See, I kind of have some school stuff to finish up before the vacation ends, and it's so boring just sitting inside doing it, and seeing as you're, like, a straight-A genius or whatever, I figured you could maybe help me out a bit."

"If you feel like picking someone's brains, I suggest you try Kenny," I said, neutrally, raging inwardly at myself. I should, I told myself, have forcibly pulled his hand off my arm, hopefully crushing a few fingers in the process to help the message sink in, and stalked off.

"Nah, he's too busy. He says he's still upgrading Strata Dragoon for the Tournament and stuff, but Hil and Daichi sneaked a look at his laptop the other day, and we're pretty sure that the Chief runs Ming Ming's biggest fansite…so? You coming?"

It was as though he'd already forgotten everything; as though he had simply decided to pretend nothing had ever happened. That wasn't usually the sort of thing he did, I realised confusedly. Usually, he would nag and nag until he got the answer he wanted; I could testify to that, anyway. It was strange. I turned to face him, finally, and saw him smiling at me, brightly, comfortably, but with the smallest touch of resignation in it. I understood what he as doing, then: he wasn't talking about it because he knew I didn't want to.

He had grown up more than I'd realised.

For a very long moment, we held each others' gaze, his simple, open, caring smile making me want to forget all the pretending, forget all the forced, determined indifference, and just tell him how grateful I was to him, how much I needed him there with me. Then he winked, and jerked his head back, and said, "Cool. I'll take that as a yes. I just need to swing by my room and find my maths stuff. Let's go."

So I followed him inside, and ended up leaning calmly against the wall while he ransacked the pile of school bags that had been dumped down at the end of the semester two months ago. "I know I brought it home – " he was muttering. "Gah! Where is it? Stupid book – argh!"

"Hey, Kai," Rei said through a yawn as he stuck his head around the door, sipping at a mug of coffee. "Um…Tyson hasn't lost his homework again, has he?"

"It's not lost!" Tyson shouted, emptying the contents of Max's bag onto the floor and searching through the piles of crumpled paper. "I know exactly where it is! It's around here somewhere, I know it! I do!"

"Well, someone's in denial," I muttered to my folded arms.

"You got it," Rei agreed, laughing.

"So how's Mariah doing, Rei?" Tyson asked, meaningfully, glaring up at him.

"Oh, very funny," Rei replied, flushing slightly. "If you're looking for your maths book, I know where it is."

"Where?" Tyson yelled, leaping off the floor and practically throwing himself at Rei. I snickered disdainfully as he clutched at Rei's shirt, almost sending the coffee flying, pleading, "Where? Where? Dude! Tell me!"

"Only if you promise to lay off about Mariah."

"Ah, no fair!" Tyson whined. "It's so fun messing with you about it…what time did you get in last night? After two, wasn't it? Heh, go Rei."

"Oh, well, I guess your work will never be completed, and you'll fail next year, and…"

"Alright, alright! No teasing you about your love life, I protect your sensitive little ego, everyone's happy, blah, blah, blah. Where's my maths book?"

"On top of the DVD player, and blame Daichi, not me."

"Yes! Thank you, man!" He let go of Rei and rushed out of the room, yelling as he did so, "Come on, Kai! Get moving already!"

I shook my head, and pushed myself off from the wall, only to catch Rei grinning at me. "Got a problem?" I snapped.

"You were smiling," he said, teasingly. "I saw you. You were smiling at Tyson the whole time he was in here."

"And your point is?" I asked, belligerently.

"Hey, relax," he said, defensively, gulping down some more coffee. "I didn't say anything. Go help Tyson face the evils of schoolwork. I'm going to back to sleep. There isn't enough caffeine in this stuff."

As I followed the sounds of Tyson's swearing and Daichi's yelling into the TV room, I made sure that I kept my arms crossed and my eyes down, and that I wasn't smiling in the least.

The river shone a silvery-white underneath the delicate grey light that sifted down through the thick clouds. The grass was slightly damp, and the air smelled of stone and moss. We were sitting side-by-side on the bank of the river.

"Brrr! Why did we come out here again?" Tyson complained, huddling into himself.

"Your idea," I said, moodily skipping a pebble across the water, chewing at the blade of grass between my teeth.

"It's one of those days when you just want to stay inside all snuggled up playing PS2 the whole time, you know?"

"No."

He stuck his tongue out at me. "You just don't know how to have fun."

"You apparently don't know how to stop complaining."

"You don't know how to be human, dude!"

"Do your work and keep quiet."

He flopped down onto his stomach, resting his chin on one hand and sucking at his pencil, his textbook and his workbook spread out in front of him. "Ah, heck. I should have brought a calculator, this stuff's impossible…"

"If you actually paid attention during school, it might help."

"What that's supposed to mean?" he asked, sounding hurt. "I pay attention! All the time!"

"Yeah, right," I said. I'd transferred to the same school that he, Daichi, Hilary and Kenny attended the year before, seeing as it had just made things easier – and I'd never liked my old school, anyway. Of course, transferring schools had also meant that I'd begun to have slight trouble concentrating in the classes he and I shared, although that wasn't something I was ever going to acknowledge. "I was watching you. You were staring at the clock for most of that last period. Pathetic."

"It was the last day, and I was dying of boredom…hey, how cool is it, anyway? We've only got one year of school left! I mean, I'm going to win the Tournament, graduate, and then it's off to university!"

"I wouldn't get any ideas if I were you," I told him, smiling lazily. "This Tournament is mine."

"Isn't that what you said last time?" he taunted.

"That was a long time ago," I informed him. "I'm winning this one." For you, I added silently, and then was appalled at myself for even thinking something so ridiculous.

Even if it was true.

Seeing him with Rei had hurt me, somehow. To see how friendly he was, and to see how friendly others were to him, and then compare it to how I treated him, made me feel rather ashamed. I'd never once proved myself to him. Oh, he told me often enough how happy he'd been when I had come back, but I refused to allow myself to believe it. All the time we'd been together, he'd been reaching out to me, trying to make me feel special, to feel wanted, and what had I ever done for him?

Nothing.

In some strange, completely illogical way, I'd always felt like winning was the only thing I could give him, was the only way I could show him how indescribably grateful I was for his friendship. If I could win, if I could keep on being the best, I could at least let him know that I had done it for him. I could at least show him that I cared.

"In your dreams, dude," he was saying, starting to scribble away again. "In your…dreams. Alright! First page done! Yeah! What's next?"

"Complete page 252, exercises four, five and nine," I recited, bored. "You're hopeless. I did this the afternoon school ended."

"Oh, good for you, Mr Smarty Pants. Show off how organised you are while the rest of us suffer." He gave a huge sigh, and rolled over onto his back, tucking his arms behind his head. "Man, I'm bored."

"Do your work."

"I don't want to."

"Shut up and do it."

"It's killing me, Kai…" he moaned to the empty sky. "I'm in mortal pain…help me…hey, I don't suppose I could just ask you do it all for me?"

"What do you think?" I asked, cuttingly.

"Erm…that you love me and are going to rescue me from the evil armies of mutant maths textbooks that are trying to annihilate me and conquer the universe while they're at it?"

"Wrong answer," I said, trying very hard not to smile.

"You're mean," he said, and sighed. "Page 252 it is." He rolled over onto his stomach again, pulled a face the textbook, and started writing again. I skipped another pebble, and then lay back in the long grass, gently plucking the strand of grass from my lips and twirling it between my fingers. Turning my face up to the pale air, I closed my eyes, enjoying the cool, damp breeze blowing across my skin, comforted by Tyson's proximity. Even if I was resigned now to the fact that he could never love me, I knew that, for today at least, we could be together.

I wasn't sure how long it was going to last, though. The only thing holding us together was Beyblading, and if this was going to be our retirement Tournament, as it probably would, what would happen after that? We'd go off to university together, and he'd make new friends, and I wouldn't, and although at first he would probably make an effort to see me, we would inevitably lose touch – and then what? I knew that I had to be realistic. The chances of our friendship lasting were slim. I knew also that I should be preparing myself for that, falling back into the old ways of silence and solitude, but I didn't know if I'd be able to manage it.

That week without had been the emptiest, most painful week of my life – and even then, I'd known that there was a small part of him that stubbornly continued to care for me. If we just ended up seeing less and less of each other, he would eventually forget me. I would be a childhood friend, my face blurring in his mind until I was nothing more than an empty, vaguely familiar name on the back page of a contacts book.

It frustrated me to think of it, because I knew that there was nothing I could do. Very few things last. I knew that. I tried to convince myself, as I had many, many times before, that it was just a crush, and that sooner or later I would get over it.

There were moments when I could almost believe that, but I hated to think it. What I felt for Tyson had to be more than that. Ever since he was thirteen, he'd been one of the key parts of my life, the one, brightly-burning thing that I had always clung to.

He had always seemed to radiate this energy, this brightness. He'd grown up so much since I'd first met him, and that brightness, that pure force, had become something deeper. He'd become a leader, someone whom people admired and looked up to. He just seemed to have an innate strength that ran through him, a dependability. He was so vibrant and spirited, so passionate in his outlook on life, that it was almost difficult to understand at times. Other people were drawn to him; and I, all my life, had hung back, watching over him from a distance, becoming prouder and prouder of him with every passing day, smiling at him in secret.

I just didn't want to lose him.

After a while, I cracked open an eye to see if he'd made any progress, or if he'd fallen asleep. He was lying on his back, his head tilted to the side, so that he was looking straight at me. Our gaze locked, and he smiled. It was strange; for a moment, there had been a flicker of nervousness in his expression.

Oh, great.

He was probably wondering whether I was going to jump him and start making out with him again. Then again, I couldn't blame him for being edgy around me. Being gratuitously kissed by one of his best friends couldn't exactly have been an everyday occurrence.

"I'm all done," he sang, happily. "And I didn't even need any of your help! Hah! So there, Kai! Eat that! I can do stuff for myself."

I grunted. There wasn't much I could say to that. Besides, I knew perfectly well that he could do things for himself. I'd never told him how strong I knew he actually was; I'd been too busy shutting him off, putting him down.

"Aww, can't Kai think of anything rude to say? Little baby Kai isn't so tough after all, is he?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, and said, smoothly, "There are only so many times I can tell you that you're a lost cause, Tyson. If the message hasn't gotten through by now, I don't think it ever will."

"Hey!" he said. "Dude, I can't even count how many times I've tried to get you to act nice, and you don't see me calling you thick."

I laughed at that, helplessly, feeling something stupidly happy wriggle around in my stomach as I looked at him.

"Yeah! You see? Now you're in a good mood!" he said, sitting up. "C'mon! I'm bored. You want to do something? Grab something to eat?"

I shrugged.

"Please?"

"No."

"But I'm starving! Thinking makes you very hungry."

"You'll live."

"Alright, that does it," he said, jumping to his feet. "Dude, we are getting something to eat, and if you don't get up right now, you are going to have to pay for everything, and I mean that."

"Too bad." I was already starting to close my eyes again, but he reached down and grabbed my hand in both of his, and pulled me to my feet. I found myself swallowing, my heart beginning to beat thickly and heavily. I kept my eyes trained on his hands, which were still clutched around mine. It was suddenly more painful than ever to be right there, so close to him, and at the same time to be further away from him than ever. I needed to hold him again, to press my face to his just one more time.

"Hey," he said, gently, squeezing my hand slightly. "I said no running off, right?"

"Right," I said, hoarsely, still staring at the ground.

"Then let's go already!" he said, bending down to pick up his textbook, releasing my hand. For want of something to do, I grabbed at his exercise book, which was still lying open in the grass, the pages covered with scribbled equations and wobbly diagrams. As we straightened up, I began closing the book to hand it back to him, but something caught my eye.

Scrawled absently in the margin of a page was my name.

For one stupid second, all I could think was, Why would Tyson write my name in his maths book?

There it was again, on the next page, surrounded by little smiley-faces and small hearts -and on the next, and the next…and, pasted haphazardly onto the very last page, was a small, black-and-white photograph of me, snipped out from a newspaper. I recognised it – it was one from the article that had been published about BEGA's formation, when I had been listed as one of its new top members. It looked distinctly as though the picture had been crumpled up in anger, then smoothed out again before being stuck carefully down.

It seemed as though Tyson definitely hadn't been concentrating in maths.

I could feel blood singing through my head with shock. Some part of me was laughing almost hysterically, incredulously refusing to accept this, but some other part was drunkenly, breathlessly happy. It couldn't mean anything, could it? What? He…no. He…he…I couldn't focus. All I could think about was him. I was so dizzy I could hardly stand upright, and my heart was hammering away inside me so hard that I could almost feel my body shaking with each beat. I found myself smiling, sucking in deep, gasping breaths. Did this mean he…?

I looked up hopefully from the pages of the book into his eyes. For one moment, it looked like he was smiling at me, but then I realised that I was mistaken. He wasn't smiling at all.

He was crying.

His lips were folded defiantly, his chin stuck out, his fists clenched at his sides, and a small, steady stream of tears flowed down each cheek. He sniffed, hard, his face creasing up for a moment, and then said, slowly, "So now you know."

I didn't know what to say. I was completely thrown by seeing him cry. That hadn't exactly been what I was expecting. "Tyson…" I croaked out. I reached out to him with the hand that wasn't holding the book, but then let my arm fall back to my side. "…stop…crying."

"Kai…" he said, in a small, miserable little voice. He rubbed his hand over his eyes desperately, and took in a huge, shaky breath, and said, looking at me steadily, "I'm sorry, OK? I'm a big, stupid idiot, and you're going to hate me, and I'm sorry. I've messed it all up, and it's my fault. I know that."

I still couldn't think of anything to say that would actually improve the situation.

All I could do was reach out to him again, desperate to stop him crying, but this time he moved back, edging away from me. "Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head, sending tears flying everywhere. His lips were trembling now, but his eyes still held that defiant, proud look. He swallowed, and said, breathing deeply, "There is no way I am doing this to you. I'm – look, Kai…oh, Kai…"

His voice broke, and for a moment it looked as though he were going to break down entirely, and I felt myself starting to go crazy with pain. It was horrible to see him like this…bitterly, I congratulated myself. It looked I'd managed to screw his life up.

Again.

He pulled himself together again, and continued, "…look, I'm sorry. I…wrote that stuff, and…because…I…I like you, OK? You're…you're strong and brave and…and I…I…like you so much, Kai, and I want to be with you, and you're going to hate me, but…I've just wanted to tell you forever, but I figured it would just be pointless, so I didn't, and…now you know, and everything's going to suck, so I'm just going to go, and…yeah. OK. I'm sorry. Bye."

"Don't you dare leave," I said, quietly. "Please. Tyson…"

"Kai, just drop it, OK?" he asked, his voice shaking. He looked so desolate, his face so empty and sad. I'd never seen him this hurt before. "Five years…five whole years you've been driving me up the wall, I swear, and I…I just wanted to be with you…because you're you. And…I know I've ruined it now. OK? I get it, dude. It's over."

"No," I said, firmly. "I…you…we…"

He gave me one last look, his eyes clinging to my face. He said, just quietly, "I'll see you around, OK?" and then he turned, and ran.

It was like a part of me was being pulled away. The agony of emotions inside my chest was almost a physical, throbbing pain. He was hurt, he was crying, and I hadn't been able to say anything, and now he was gone, scrambling up the slope, and dashing off down the road, his shoulders shaking. I think I must have shouted after him, but he didn't stop.

I looked out at the silver water numbly, still holding the workbook in one hand. I felt slightly sick and bruised inside. This, I realised suddenly, must have been how he had felt when I had left: alone, betrayed, powerless, and empty. I'd never realised how much I'd hurt him over the years…but he had never seemed to mind…in fact, he had apparently liked me…

How? Why? What had I ever done for him? He'd been the one who'd helped me, who'd reached out and touched my life, who'd forced me to care. I loved him. No one had ever been as close to me, had ever, ever believed in me so fiercely.

Oh, Tyson. Oh, my Tyson.

As it began to rain, I sat down on the wet grass, drew my knees up to my chin, and, deciding that if my pride was the only thing I had left to lose, I might as well lose it, cried.

Urgh. Don't say I didn't warn you about the OOCness. What is this pseudo-Kai creature I have created, anyway? Some kind of overly-hormonal Mary-Sue wearing face paint and a scarf? (shudders) Sorry. These last few chapters have been BAD…

Well, even though theory's over, a not-so-fun little bit of evilness known as 'my Grade Six piano practical exam' is just around the corner…and seeing as I've been slacking badly for a while now, I have got to get working. Anyway, don't expect an update until around the beginning of November. I might post the next chapter of The Midnight Feast a bit sooner, though.

The review button is caaaaalling to yoooooou…cliiiiiiick on the review button…